23.6.09

O ruddier than the cherry,O sweeter than the berry,O nymph more brightThan moonshine night,Like kidlings blithe and merry.

Ripe as the melting cluster,No lily has such lustre;Yet hard to tameAs raging flame,And fierce as storms that bluster!

O ruddier. . . etc. (da capo)

The poetry is mighty good: Poliphemus is so taken with his creation that repeats the opening two lines three times (what is good to hear once, etc.) and then breaks out into a bleating ornamentation. ("Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee").

Ah, the transformative power of love!

A good singer will sing the aria badly -- off beat ("o sweeter than the berry") and bleat like a sheep on the eeeeee ornamentando. Mathew Rose does this brilliantly here. Bryn Terfel does it badly: he doesn't know how to discard his singer's pride in the name of -- well, a good joke.